The Blood of Us
by Ryan Johnson
Summary: Evil chases Jake Young, aka Blood, to Smallville and then nearly kills him. Now this evil is circling Smallville, willing to destory anything in order to get to Blood.


The following fan-fiction takes place during the second season of Smallville, normally I do not like placing things in a particular season of a show, but the second season works perfectly for the story I want to tell.

There will be alot more to come, I hope you enjoy, and please pretty please review!

I don't own Smallville, but some characters of this fan-fic are original.

The Dark Man drew nearer to his prey, Joke Rainey, alias Blood.

The Dark Man drew nearer to his prey, Joke Rainey, alias Blood. Blood recoiled further into his hiding spot. He had the feeling that the wild hunt that had lasted almost a year was coming to an end. A the mere thought of what would happen to Blood once the Dark Man finally took possession of his prey Blood winced.

Leaves crunched under the black leather boots of the Dark Man. He was mere feet away from Blood, and he knew it. The Dark Man swiveled around, his eyes searching with a quiet impatience that sent a shudder down Blood's spine. Blood waited, the Dark Man turned again, his back was to Blood. The boy pushed forward and sprinted through the forest. He was swift and almost noiseless, but still the Dark Man followed.

Abruptly Blood sent out his arm, caught a thin tree and used leverage to make a sharp, full speed turn to change his direction from east to south. The Dark Man pursued. Soon the thick forest gave way to a wheat field. Blood turned his head back to see if he had lost his foe, but his hope was washed away. The Dark Man was, if anything, closer than before. With a low moan Blood kept sprinting. Sweat formed thick at his brow. By the time the wheat field had turned to a cornfield the sweat was stinging at Blood's eyes.

It was hopeless Blood decided. The Dark Man was too quick, too relentless. Blood would lose. His choices were too few. Run and die, or stand, fight, and die. Blood was not the type to go out quietly. Blood slowed, then stopped. There were no more cornfields, only open grassy fields. About one thousand meters off was a farm and quaint yellow house.

The Dark Man halted ten feet away from Blood. Without a word the Dark Man held his right hand out. From the strange black gauntlet the Dark Man wore came a long black staff that let out a dull glow and a buzz. The staff was four feet long and seemed short next to the Dark Man's six feet and numerous inches. Still the staff was scary to Blood, a symbol of the pain he had gone through, and would feel again.

"So this is it?" Blood asked.

The Dark Man nodded.

Blood planted his feet into the ground. The Dark Man ran at Blood, moved the staff low and then slashed upwards. Blood dodged to the right and let loose a quick left uppercut that connected squarely with the Dark Man's masked jaw. Blood tried for a right jab but the movement left him open. The Dark Man pushed the staff against the boy's chest.

Pain shot through Blood's body. It stung at ever nerve, traveled across every muscle. Blood dropped to his knees. He looked up helplessly at the Dark Man. The man swung his staff against Blood's head. Blood yelped and fell onto his back. With his prey lying on the ground the Dark Man raised his staff.

Blood blinked.

The staff plunged into Blood's abdomen. Blood screamed as red sprayed around him. The blood began to swirl in the air around the staff. As Blood lost blood more of the dark red fluid joined in the swirl. The Dark Man's eyes widened and the blood shot out in a wide circle. It was like a soundless bomb had gone off. A nearby tree turned to mere splinters. Red filed the air in all directions. Slowly it faded away. Blood could feel his body dying, deflating like a balloon. Then strong hands on his body. He was being lifted by something, someone. Everything went black.

* * *

Martha and Jonathon Kent hated hospitals. They had both spent an alarming amount of time in them, luckily they hadn't lost many to the clean ammonia smelling small town hospital of Smallville. And while they did place an awful lot of faith in the able doctors of the ER, the current case did not look promising. Martha could tell as soon as her son brought her the boy that the boy had lost a lot of blood.

Someone tapped Martha on the shoulder. Martha turned with her husband to face a pretty Indian-American woman in a lab coat.

"Mr. And Mrs. Kent?" The woman asked.

"Yes." Jonathon nodded.

The doctor opened her mouth as if to say something, paused, then spoke, "The boy lost a lot of blood, we had to do a transfusion."

"Is he going to be alright?" Martha asked, moving her hand over her heart. It was a habit when she was worried.

The doctor nodded, "He is going to be fine."

Martha let out a sigh of relief. Jonathon's tense shoulders loosened. It was not going to be a deadly night.

"Clark is with the boy now," The doctor smiled a small smile, then frowned again. "Now, do you know the boy?"

"No." Martha answered.

"There was no ID. I've notified the sheriff, he might be able to find out who the boy is." The doctor said.

Jonathon shook his head, "I don't think the kid is from Smallville."


End file.
